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by MaybeItsJustMyType
Summary: Writingwife83 prompt:Molly comments that after work she has to buy some new bed linens. Sherlock rudely insists that he come with her to get the best kind since he knows she'll go for much cheaper than he'd like, and he cares because of using her flat as a bolt hole. Molly has to endure shopping with him and fluff ensues! :D (non-established Sherlolly & rating limit of T please!)


"Sherlock!" Molly hissed, "You cannot open the sheets to check the thread count!" Molly looked around to make sure there was no store employee coming along to see them with an opened package, hygiene rules or some such would be sited as a reason to force her to purchase the sheets.

"Molly, how else will I know if," he stopped to peer at the package, "House and Bath, are honouring their claim of a 500 thread count?" Sherlock stood waiting expectantly for an answer.

Molly closed her eyes and started counting, - counting to ten silently at this point in time may well save a life.

"Molly, why did you invite me here if you weren't going to let me offer my expertise on the subject? As you can see by the way that I dress…" Sherlock gestured at his outfit and looked up at Molly to make sure she caught his meaning, John and Molly both could be incredibly obtuse at times.

Molly stood hands on hips, murderous gleam in her eyes, teeth clenched she spat at him, "Invited you? I didn't invite you Sherlock! You invited yourself!"

Sherlock took half a step back, weary, he could never tell when she might decide he'd committed a slap worthy offence. "Well considering how often I sleep in your bed…I _had_ to come to make sure that you purchased quality sheets, I cannot access my mind palace lying on those sub-par scratchy cheap fabric scraps you choose to call sheets."

"Really?" Molly stared at him, mouth open, eyebrows raised, The audacity of him, spoilt overgrown baby, "You've never had any trouble before! Besides which we need to talk about you using my place as a bolt-hole."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow suddenly still, wary, he'd waited for years for Molly to tire of him and his ridiculous ways.

Molly took a breath and blew it out slowly, "The thing is Sherlock, I'm not getting any younger.."

 _Not getting any younger? Is this going to be some crazy philosophical argument_? "Well of course you're not Molly! We don't.."

Molly's jaw tightened, "Sherlock! You know what I mean!"

"Sorry, do go on," he put down the sheets and stood with his hands clasped together in front of him waiting for the bullet that was surely about to pierce his heart.

Molly's voice was gentle, "Sherlock, I want a family, I want a husband, I can't find one when you're using my flat as a bolt hole, when you're using my bed, as bolt hole."

Sherlock swallowed, "You can find those things while I'm there," his face expressed how much hurt her statement had caused him.

Molly took in his obvious hurt feelings and softened, "I'm sorry Sherlock but I can't, what man is going to put up with up with another man sharing my bed?"

Sherlock crinkled his nose, Another man?.. "There doesn't need to be another man sharing your bed Molly."

Molly's gaze was pitying, "Sherlock.."

The hurt was spiralling and snowballing into anger as she summarily dismissed him as a man, " _No_! Why not me? Why can't I be that man?" Sherlock's glare was a challenge, daring her to continue in this vein of nonsense.

Molly's face screwed up in an exaggerated parody of confusion, her head reared back as she asked faintly, "You?"

Sherlock spluttered, his mouth pressed into a flat line, making his displeasure more than clear, _Now she's taking it too far, don't you pretend to have never noticed I'm a man, I know damn well you spent years noticing I was a man all too frequently_ , "Am I so undesirable to you now? You used to love me, we _both_ know you did."

Molly threw up her hands in exasperation, "Sherlock, you can't…you can't just _decide_ you want to fill a position as husband and father, you have to be in love!"

"Are you still in love with me Molly?"

Molly looked down at her hands twisting together, "That's not fair Sherlock," her voice a whisper, "Don't be _cruel_ , it's not a one way street, the love has to be shared."

Sherlock stepped toward her and took her hands, "Molly, you really don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Her voice guarded but hopeful, she'd never been able to squelch that never ending hope that he would grow to love her eventually.

"Haven't you ever thought about why I'm always at your place? Why I don't want you dating other men?" His thumbs stroked back and forth in a comforting gesture while she processed this new information.

Molly's breathing was heavy as she looked at Sherlock in apprehension, "Don't say it if you don't mean it Sherlock, you'll break my heart, it's not a game, I'm not an experiment, you can't get bored of me."

"Molly I've known you for for nearly ten years, I know who you are and I know what I want. It took me longer to get here, but it was never going to be anyone else.

Sherlock let go of one of her hands, brushing it across Molly's temple, he ran it from her brow down over her cheek stopping under her chin and tilting her head up gently, releasing the other hand he slid it slowly around her neck coming to rest at the base of her skull, looking into her eyes he waited, giving her time to understand what he wanted to do.

Molly's breath hitched, her eyes wide, her face tilted up towards his like a flower seeks the sun, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiled at her, "Yes, Molly," as he leaned down he realised she was straining up on her tip toes to reach him, always thinking of others, the sweetest antidote to his thoughtlessness.

Just before their lips touched Sherlock tried to ignore the horrified voice screaming in his mind that if kissing may Molly felt just as wrong as kissing Janine had - greasy, strong floral smells that made him queasy, he had liked Janine too, yet still… _nothing_ – if kissing Molly felt like that she would know, and she'd never forgive him.

The only difference – and it was a big one, he hoped would be enough – was the fact that he was drawn to Molly, he wanted to share her bed, he wanted to touch her, the impulse at times was almost overwhelming to simply hold her hand as they walked, or to pull her into his lap as she wandered past him on a Sunday morning looking delightfully dishevelled.

As their lips touched he sighed contentedly, she was perfect, lips soft and supple, not too small, they fitted against his like a puzzle piece, feeling her answering sigh he pulled away and looked at her with a smile filled with wonder. "Kissing you feels good, it feels nice –I.."

Molly frowned at him, "What the he..mmph."

Her words cut short as he pulled her into another kiss, this time deepening it, he wanted to know what kissing Molly using his tongue to explore and chase her own would feel like. Judging from the murmurs that followed, it's safe to say that they both enjoyed that little experiment.

When they left the store ten minutes later poor Molly was mortified, Sherlock on the other hand was strutting like a peacock.

Sherlock had picked Molly up and sat her on one of the wooden shelves in order to equalise their height discrepancy – he had (correctly) calculated that her weight was below the threshold of the shelf's capacity.

Following this a spotty young employee had rounded the corner leading an older woman on a hunt for a particular set of fuchsia sheets featured in their catalogue. The young man had stopped, mouth swinging open at the bizarre scene he had happened upon.

A very tall forbidding looking gentleman in a long coat, standing in front of a sweet –and pretty, he'd thought, _really pretty_ – woman in a woollen jumper.

The man was cradling the pretty woman's face like it was the most precious thing and kissing her desperately. The woman had the most gooey big brown eyes when he broke the kiss and she was panting a little, clearly the comic book villain type had done a good job of it.

The fuchsia sheet seeking customer standing next to him started clapping, the villain turned and gave a fanciful bow, the woman blushed from top to toe and scrabbled to get off the shelf apologising profusely.

They had left the store with not one, but three sets of sheets, in various hues, as well as four new pillows, a mattress pad, a feather down duvet, and 3 covers, all items were the top of each range.

Every time the woman would disagree on a purchase he'd simply hit her with puppy eyes and kiss her again, each time he did she would blush and frown but then wave him off in a 'get on with it' sort of manner.

When I showed them the mattress pad though, the kiss didn't work, it was like watching a movie, I was fascinated, what would he do?

All he did was lean down and whisper something in her ear while dragging his fingers through her hair at the base of her skull she shivered and blushed and duly waved him off again, I'd love to know what he said.

He paid for everything, wouldn't let her get her card out, when she tried a kiss was sufficient, she was still quite pink from his whispering, he saw me staring and winked.

They left hand in hand, they seemed to be rather in a hurry, he of course, managed to get them a taxi inside of a minute, I've waited on that road for thirty minutes for a cab..

When I grow up I want to be him, Mycroft Holmes, he even had a platinum credit card.


End file.
